


Dephasing

by poupon, thegirl_gcat



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Third Person, Slash, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poupon/pseuds/poupon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_gcat/pseuds/thegirl_gcat
Summary: Gigi finally noticed the Law of Attraction a short time after, that if Paulo is in position A, then he can find Federico in a 5-meter radius from A and vice versa. He thought about how he might write this into his biography.





	Dephasing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twisthaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisthaz/gifts), [sammyanddee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyanddee/gifts).
  * A translation of [Lệch pha](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143319) by [thegirl_gcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_gcat/pseuds/thegirl_gcat). 



> Special thanks to my best friend cheezychou and my baby Ant for making this happen. I don't think this fic can be translated until you guys stepped in. 
> 
> I love this pairing so much but the lack of their fanfics really stress the fuck out of me. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! And forgive me for my stupid imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you._
> 
> ― Richard Siken

 

 

 

 

Lately, Sir Buffon has come to a crucial conclusion:

  
They are _flirting_.

  
Dear Lord, both of them, Paulo Dybala and Federico Bernadeschi, the young kids who have robbed countless papers and ink from sport media all over the world, who have earned themselves thousands of praises about how they will shine brightest on the sky already too full of stars, they are hitting on each other like there is no tomorrow. This term, sadly, can be defined in two ways: 1) they spend literally every minute breathing to flirt, from dusk till dawn, from East to West, from North to South, from Turin to Rome, then back to Turin, then back to the fields, then back to locker rooms from the fields, with every ways possible and impossible to think about, never been so bluntly and blatantly ~~in love~~ embarrassing; 2) for the rest of the team, there is, in fact, no tomorrow for their lungs breathing in all this sugar from the air. Luckily, none of the heart-eyes they shoot at each other lands on their legs or ankles or any other parts that causes injuries in major matches, otherwise, the team should really think about changing their nickname from La Vecchia Signora to La Torta Signora.

  
Of course, Captain Buffon is here to make sure there will not be such a future. And also, with how serious they are in every match, how flames set in their footsteps and lick away drops of salts on their jawlines and burn between the fabric of their jerseys, still dripping sweat, it’s hard to even believe that all those flirting businesses will affect their spirits on the fields.

  
At first, no one noticed Paulo’s strange manner toward Federico upon the boy’s arrival because, well, Paulo has mastered the Art of Flirting that if he publishes _Flirting 101 for Dummies_ the whole world would line up in the queue to buy (Sir Gianluigi Buffon knows best the details of it.) But then the team noticed, then the fans have started noticing as well (blame all those cheesy Insta stories) and since none of them has escaped being attacked by this amount of flirts, they have decided to hop on the ship anyway. Because you see, no matter how much you try to deny it, with your coldest hearts and your darkest souls, the fact that Paulo and Federico are **SO-FUCKING-CUTE-TOGETHER** will still sit like an elephant in your living room.

  
Gigi can recall the time Federico effortlessly scored his first flirting goal in the waiting room before one of their press conferences. The Goal™ was such a bang it silenced a room full of bulky grown-ass adults for God knows how long, partly because they were too embarrassed to react, and the other part because they were holding back any expressions/reactions that threatened to make the situation even more embarrassing.

  
Captain Buffon isn’t sure about the whole story, but per what he’s been told later, basically, Paulo had been hyperactive like always and Juan rolled his eyes from across the room, half laughed, half complained: “Stop screwing around Paulo, or I’ll _screw_ you instead!” Federico was surfing through something on his phone at the time and Captain was about 99% sure that he didn’t intend to say what he said, but then some magical forces did their magical work and the words slipped off his tongue smoothly like it’s been on his mind since the beginning of time, and the boy said to the whole room, eyes still on his phone, with his vague Italian accent: “ _Get in the line, Juan._ ”

  
The silence after is almost deadly.

  
“Did you just-?” Juan gasped, glaring at Federico then at Paulo then back at Federico like something just grew out of their heads.

  
His fingers stopped tapping the phone screen as soon as Federico realized the bomb he just dropped. Then, without looking up, he pulled his nothing-happened-don’t-look-at-me facade and started typing again, as if nothing really happened and the team wasn’t still emotionally unstable with his Goal™.

  
The Captain, with his calm, glanced over to Paulo and Juan in the front row. He saw Paulo’s ears getting red hot and Paulo’s face bright and smiling and Paulo’s eyes shooting hearts at Federico - blushed from his forehead to the back of his neck despite all the cool and collected disguise. And Captain Buffon, still with his calm, suddenly realized.

  
Another day, the team was having their training session. It’s raining the night before so the field was still wet with puddles here and there. It’s so hard to find somewhere without fresh air in Allianz, and Gigi took time enjoying a deep breath or two before a lovely view cut it short.

  
It’s those two again. Of course it’s got to be them, what did he expect?

  
Federico Bernardeschi, 22-year-old midfielder and Paulo Dybala, 23-year-old striker of Juventus Football Club were playing with a ball around a puddle with the most childish amusement, grinning like dorks. Captain Buffon usually has concerns about how new players could bond with the team, including Federico with the current line-up. But that didn’t seem like a problem to him any more right then. The actual problem he was facing was that his ‘big brother’ mindset couldn’t stop thinking about those two as little boys playing with puddles in six feet bodies. He had to slap himself to stop his imaginations there. _Focus! Focus on the game!_

  
But even afterward, the scene he saw that day pops into his mind every so often. It was quite a sight that day. Paulo and Federico in complete azure against other shades of blue and green, the ball shuffling between their legs as if it’s controlled with strings, what’s left from the rain spattering and glimmering like tiny diamonds mid-air when they collided. Behind them was the sun, it poured lights down their silhouettes, wrapped over the sharp edges and drown them in halo. Paulo’s soft brown hair and Federico’s golden strands blended into the sunlight, into the splash of raindrops, into their laughs, into the sound made by their kicks and the ball, in the swift breeze brushing through them and in the warm distant chats of their team. All of those things shuffle inside Buffon’s memories like a soft cozy blanket that he would stay inside forever if he could.

  
Gigi finally noticed the Law of Attraction a short time after, that if Paulo is in position A, then he can find Federico in a 5-meter radius from A and vice versa. He thought about how he might write this into his biography.

  
Paulo is very ardent in social media that sometimes his passion for Instagram burns as much as his passion for football. Federico, on the other hand, wasn’t very fond of expressing himself online. Until he met Paulo. Then they took over Insta Story with an army of cheesy oneliners, perfectly edited photos and a sea of lovey-dovey hashtags.

  
Gigi has observed and investigated them very thoroughly, especially Paulo’s Instagram. Monday was a photo of Federico’s arm covered in ink and all the religious meanings behind, Tuesday he posted two hands forming an F with _#FinoAllaFine_ before the match, Wednesday was a boomerang video of Paulo bouncing a ball, and you-know-who filmed it. On Thursday, a picture of two Peroni cups, including their reflections grinning on the glass. On Friday the fans got the chance to lose their mind over Paulo’s non-existed new girlfriend after he tagged his photo #trainingwithbae, but the whole team knew Paulo, Federico and the ball already made a family together. Sometimes Gigi thinks that if one day they actually get married their child would be a ball so they can bounce it with each other, and their happy ending scene would just be them passing it back and forth. During the weekend there were fewer posts though, probably because the team got other plans, or the lovebirds were off to somewhere else, or not even leaving the bed at all... Hmm, Captain doesn’t think he needs to know about it. Really, his health doesn’t exactly encourage him to go discovering, he’s had enough sugar from them daily.

 

Another day, another heart attack in Paulo’s Instagram Story, a post with _#babytrickortreat_ and... an ouija board!

  
Gigi remembers the whole commotion behind that ouija board story. It was a late night, the team was staying in a five stars hotel for a signing that would take place in the next morning. As usual, at the godforsaken time of 2 in the morning, Captain Gigi expected everyone to be sleeping. But no, the sounds from the next room was so loud it had magically gotten pass layers of soundproof walls to get to him and he was quite sure World War III was about to happen.

  
Knock knock.

Juan opened the door, half of his face written anxious and jittery, the other half read “please do something to shut them up” in full capital letters, bolded and underlined.

  
Captain peeked inside and saw a battlefield of pillows and sheets. On the bed were Wojciech and Claudio with blindfolds and earphones on, lying as still as corpses, and on the floor were, obviously, two assholes who were behind all of this chaos.

  
“Have no one ever thought about how shady it is finding an ouija board in a luxurious hotel? It’s freaking cursed, no way I’m staying with it in the same room tonight.” Federico said, arms folded, standing against the wall. He would look a thousand times more nonchalant than what he was trying to pull off if his eyes were not stuck on the ouija board in Paulo’s hands.

  
Paulo, however, was laughing hysterically. “But this board was mass produced, it even read ‘Made in China’ here... If you won’t get close then how can I show it to you?”

  
“So I assume you don’t love me anymore?” Federico said coldly, completely ignoring the presence of his Captain.

  
“You know I love you”, Paulo playfully waved the board toward Federico and laughed even louder when he almost jumped out of his skin.

  
“Are you two out of your minds?” Buffon raised his voice, making his dramatic entrance.

  
The whole suite went silent in a heartbeat.

  
In the end, the ouija board got confiscated by their Captain. Paulo’s face grown at least a feet long, Federico joyfully went back to bed, Juan put a hand on his Captain’s shoulder, “God bless you”, then there were Wojciech and Claudio, without any clue, still sleeping like they’d been in a coma for years.

  
  
  
Sometimes Gigi thought about their excessive bromance and how they could not keep their eyes off of each other and decides that maybe it was just a habit of flirting or a strange way to express their friendship and nothing was as serious as he suspected. Maybe this. Maybe that. And finally, he had the change to make maybe into certainly.

 

  
It was an unexpected moment that Buffon stumbled upon. A quiet moment, stolen unintentionally perhaps. Every time they finished an important match, they’d leave after changing their uniforms. But that night Gigi had some after work to do, and he was walking along a quiet corridor in the backend of the stadium when he saw two familiar figures, standing face-to-face between the lockers.

  
From where Buffon stood, he could gaze them directly without being noticed. He recognized them immediately from their particular features, lines and edges. Paulo always looks slimmer and shorter than Federico, with their sweat-soaking hair in their striped jersey. He saw the lights flooding over them once more, in white streams, from the back door opened out the field - a waterfall of lights hugging their black silhouettes and turning the scene in front of Buffon into a shadow puppet theater. In that stolen moment, Paulo and Federico looked like they’re scheming something, chatting and grinning. Then they slowered their paces until facing each other in silence. They spent a whole minute just looking, devouring in the view, then, Paulo suddenly patted Federico’s shoulders, smiled, tip-toed up a few inches and, in front of his Captain’s eyes, softly kissed the boy standing in front of him.

  
Time froze at that moment, where they looked just like two high school sweethearts living like there was no tomorrow, with their passion for football, loving each other like idiots and exchanging kisses behind the school backyard. It tasted like nostalgia, like something had gotten to the most mysterious corners of his mind and dug up all those old beautiful memories, the parts of humans that were tucked away, that supposed to be forgotten, that supposed to be stolen by time.

  
Buffon turned back instantly. Walking away from the scene, an unfamiliar feeling started to fill up his chest as if he had inhaled in a lungful of that white lights.

  
He suddenly thought, that someday, they are going to be legends. They will fleet on the grass, they will sway together in their own dance, and sweat will drip down their faces, flames will leave embers in their footsteps and burn in their chests when they catch up with comrades on their own war zone, then they will fight. And they will fight till the very end.

  
And when they win, Paulo will spread his arms out like a thousand times before and his brothers will rush in to hug him and carry him on their shoulders or jump on him and make a pile of over-excited kids celebrating their victory. But now there will be a race, and for some reason, Captain Buffon believes, Federico’s arms will always be the first to entwine with Paulo’s.  
 

 

 

 

 **END**  
 


End file.
